Chapter Text
Long ago, in the heart of Camelot, there lived two siblings—one, a king destined for greatness, and the other, a princess whose heart burned with unyielding devotion.
King Arthur, the golden sovereign of the land, was the pride of Camelot. Wise beyond his years and strong in both mind and sword, he ruled not with fear, but with fairness. His name alone was enough to inspire courage in his knights, and his wisdom shaped a kingdom that flourished under his reign.
But even a king, with all his might and glory, was still a brother.
And to you, Arthur was not just the wielder of Excalibur, nor the ruler of men—he was the boy who once pulled you onto his horse as he rode through the fields, the young warrior who promised to always keep you safe. To the world, he was a legend; to you, he was simply Arthur.
Together, you watched Camelot bloom, its towers reaching toward the heavens. He sat beside you at feasts, teasing you when you hesitated to speak before the court. He trained beside you in the courtyard, reminding you that strength was not only found in swords, but in wisdom and will.
“A queen must be as sharp as any blade,” he once told you, “for a dull mind is more dangerous than an untempered sword.”
You believed he would rule forever—that Camelot would never fall.
But legends, like all stories, are not without tragedy.
For the day Excalibur bound itself to Arthur, the man you knew began to disappear.
The afternoon was gloomy. Heavy clouds loomed over Camelot, casting long shadows across the castle walls. A cold breeze drifted through the open balcony, sending a faint shiver down your spine. You stood there, hands resting against the marbled railings, gazing out at the darkened skies. The air felt thick, something had happened.
Earlier this morning, you were walking down the hallway towards the throne room. The torches flickered against the cold stone, their glow doing little to light the halls. As you passed, knights bowed their heads as you passed by.
Before you could enter, the door was opened none other than your brother, Arthur.
Your brother carried himself with the same strength and grace as always, but there was something about him that felt… wrong. His eyes were sharp, but they lacked their usual warmth. His face, once so familiar, now seemed distant, unreadable.
He strode forward, his cloak billowing slightly behind him, his boots echoing against the stone floor. He passed by you without hesitation, without even acknowledging your presence. It stopped you in your tracks. Arthur always greeted you. Always with a nod, a small smile, sometimes even a teasing remark.
“Brother,” you started, now following his tracks. “Are you free this afternoon? I would like to invite you to an afternoon tea. It has been a while since we have done that.”
Arthur did not stop from his tracks. “No,” he said, his voice cold and clipped.
No?
“I will be assigning new duties to the knights,” he continued, his tone carrying no emotion, no room for discussion.
“Oh… Alright.”
Your steps faltered, and you stopped walking. The corridor suddenly felt much larger, the space between you and him widening in a way you had never felt before. You had invited him to tea before—countless times, and he had always found time for you, even amidst his duties. Even when Camelot was at its busiest, Arthur had never dismissed you so easily.
You remained frozen in place, watching him disappear around the corner, his figure swallowed by the castle’s dim torchlight.
The wind howled softly as you stood on the balcony, your hands gripped the railings. Below, the kingdom stretched out before you. The people moved about their lives, but there was a quietness, an unease in the air that had not been there before.
Your fingers curled against the stone, a deep sigh escaping your lips.
You couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed answers. You needed to understand what had happened to him. You turned away from the balcony, the cold air following you as you left the darkening view behind.
With quick, purposeful steps, you made your way through the corridors of the castle. The knights you passed barely spared you a glance, their expressions unreadable, and the silence of the halls only added to the heaviness in your chest.
Your destination was clear. Merlina . She had always been someone you could trust, someone who could provide the answers you sought. The quiet sorceress who seemed to know more than anyone about the hidden magic of the kingdom.
As you reached her chambers, you knocked softly on the door, your heart racing. The answer came almost immediately, and Merlina greeted you with a somber nod, stepping aside to let you in.
“Your Highness,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern.
You didn't waste time with pleasantries. The moment you were inside, you spoke urgently. “I need to know what’s happening to the king.” You tried to steady your breath, but the tremble in your voice was undeniable. “He… he’s not the same. He dismissed me this morning without a word. It’s as if he’s someone else entirely. Please, Merlina, tell me what’s going on.”
Merlina looked at you for a moment, as if measuring you, before she spoke. There was a weight in her eyes, something she had clearly been holding back.
“You feel it too, then.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of quiet understanding. She stepped further into the room, her hands clasped in front of her as if preparing herself to share something difficult.
“I’ve known for some time now, Your Highness. The King… He’s been corrupted by the power of Excalibur’s scabbard.”
You froze, the words hitting you like a thunderclap. Excalibur's scabbard. You had heard of its power, its legendary protection, but never did you imagine it could have such a terrible cost.
“The scabbard,” Merlina continued, her voice heavy with sorrow, “it grants immortality and incredible strength, yes. But it also feeds on its bearer’s deepest fears and desires. He thought the scabbard would make him invincible, make Camelot unbreakable.”
Her eyes darkened. “But the scabbard's true nature is far more insidious. It began to twist his mind, to convince him that the only way to preserve Camelot was through complete domination. He no longer believes in peace or justice. Only in control.”
The words were like shards of glass, cutting through your heart. Arthur, the once kind and just king, had become something else—a tyrant, ruled by fear and a lust for power.
“He’s already begun putting his plans into motion,” Merlina’s voice dropped lower, filled with grim certainty. “The king plans to use the scabbard’s power to force Camelot into submission. He’s already begun assigning knights to his side, pushing out anyone who dares question him. His rule will be absolute, and anyone who opposes him will fall.”
You felt your knees weaken, your heart pounding. The man you had looked up to all your life, the man you had always believed in, was lost.
“What can we do?” you whispered, your voice shaking. “How do we stop him?”
Merlina stepped closer, her eyes softening as she looked at you with something akin to pity. “The only way to stop Arthur… is to destroy the scabbard.”
You were no fighter and you know that none of his knights would betray him.
“I have a plan, Princess.”
You quietly walked into your chambers, the weight on your chest never left. Your cloak was damp with the cold of the dungeons, the scent of moss clinging to your skin. Merlina was gone. She had escaped.
You should be relieved. Instead, your hands trembled as you pulled back your hood, your breaths coming shallow. Your brother would soon find out.
You stepped toward the mirror, barely recognizing your own reflection. The flickering candlelight cast deep shadows across your face, your expression tense, unreadable. Your mind replayed everything—the hurried whispers, the soft sound of your footsteps echoing against the dungeon walls, the way Merlina’s grip had tightened around your wrist before she left.
“Are you certain about this?” she had asked, hesitation in her voice. “If the king finds out—”
“Then I will deal with it.” You had silenced her with a firm look, pushing the heavy wooden door open. The underground tunnel yawned before you, dark and endless.
She had hesitated only a moment longer before nodding, disappearing into the shadows. Now, standing alone in your chambers, you felt the weight of what you had done settle in your shoulders. You had betrayed your brother.
You slowly removed your cloak and draped it over the chair beside your desk. Your hands still ached from gripping the cold iron key, the same key you had tucked safely back into its hiding place beneath the floorboards. Arthur must never know.
You crossed the room and sank onto the edge of your bed, pressing your hands against your face. How long until he noticed? How long before he realized that Merlina was gone and that you were the one who had helped her?
A knock at your door made you freeze.
Your heart lurched. Had he already found out?
You took a breath, forcing yourself to calm, to push away the fear clawing at your throat. If you faltered now, everything would be for nothing.
Steeling yourself, you rose to your feet and turned to the door.
“Enter.”
The door creaked open.
And on the other side stood Sir Lancelot.